Ancient trees, their canopies blocking out all but the most stubborn sunlight, littered the area surrounding a small clearing that had a stream bubbling through its centre.

Beside the creek, four individuals stood listlessly, though to the trained eye they were watching their surroundings carefully, as they gazed at two cloaked figures circling each other slowly.

"Jeeze the adepts are slow," sighed Kelora, tapping her foot with impatience. "At this rate, I am going to die of boredom and old age."

"I think your observations are being tainted by- Verz's new pet," grumbled Velcea. "You can't go judging others by that monster. Remember, he isn't even two years old and is already trading blows like a veteran."

All of them were wearing the standard Huntsmen woodland cloak, green and brown patterns crossing it, and the Huntsmen's infamous white, featureless mask. Only the slightly shorter figure facing off against the silver wolfkin was different. His black, jagged leather armour, breaking up his outline, and cloak set him apart from the rest.

"What got your loin cloth in a twist?" rumbled Rock, in no better mood. Due to the Captain leaving with Mors to train, he had been put in charge of Huntsmen HQ, a job he abhorred. Then, just when he thought his ordeal was over, she sent him word via communication crystal that she would be at least two weeks late, over four weeks ago.

A loud bang drew their attention, and they found that the smaller of the figures was flying backwards, leaving a small trail of steaming blood hanging in the air, before they slammed into the floor and rolled towards a nearby tree.

A feminine, musical voice laughed as the victor slowly walked towards the downed man, watching his swaying, reptilian tail sticking out of his cloak, glistening black spikes, extremely carefully. "That was a bit of a letdown. What's up? Stage fright?"

"You old ha-" hissed Mors, slowly standing up, only to be slammed back into the tree by a kick. Verz had tried to teach Mors everything she knew, including how to irritate an enemy into making a mistake.

Unsurprisingly Mors had absorbed this like a sponge, though he knew from painful experience that there was a thin line with Verz, one that he would not cross again if he could help it. Weirdly enough, it wasn't her age or the scars on her face.

Verz pinned his crumpled body to the tree with a hand as she leant in, tilting her head slightly, her ears twitching and her tail wagging under her cloak.

Though most would have called it hell, during her training, the pair had become close. "Sorry, what was that? I think I misheard? I guess someone wants's to be buried in a fire ant nest again?"

"What's that? Grandma your hearings go~ Urgggg." A punch to his gut winded the demon, cutting off his words.

"Rest." Verz held Mors'eyes for a few minutes before letting him slump to the floor and walking over to the rest. "I don't suppose you will tell me who trained those adepts in the way of the snail?"

The air visible shimmered around the Huntsmen captain as her predatory gaze scanned her squad, each of them flinching. No matter how long they had known her or the life and death struggles they had faced, they could never get used to that gaze.

Verz was impatient, to the point of forcing them all to move at an incredible speed. If anyone were keeping tabs on them, they would find their behaviour weird, but to the Huntsmen lieutenants, they knew the reason why and could only look at Mors with jealousy and sigh at the trouble it would cause once word got out.

A couple of hundred meters away, five more figures shot through the undergrowth, moving as if they were ghosts, the only proof of their passing being the dead leaves being slightly being thrown into the air by the and the swaying of small branches.

At the edge of the clearing, the group briefly stopped, eyeing those in the clearing and without sound, moving into formation. Once ready they launch forward like hawks diving on their prey.

“My grandmother, in the afterlife, could hear them coming from a mile away,” spat Rock, shaking his head in disappointment. He had been told to select the most promising adepts for this team. While his hands were tied regarding Bruce, Verz insisting he be part of the team, the others were some of the best at their specialisation.

Bursting forth into the clearing, they briefly pause as the dazzling light temporarily blinded them, earning a scoff from Verz as Rock sighed, knowing that there would be repercussions. "Come on Cap, your pup is a monster. You can't compare them to him. It's unfair."

"Lifes unfair," responded Verz in a cold, unemotional voice, ignoring the new title Rock had given Mors. She knew that if she reacted, she would never hear the end of it.

It wasn't as if the adepts were not skilled, far from it, but even before she trained Mors for six months, her standards were incredibly high. Now, however, she would probably scoff at anyone below a Duke ranking. A rank that, for normal people at least, was an unreachable dream.

The new arrival's formation looked almost like an arrow, the three in front forming a triangle, Bruce leading the way with the elves on each side. The two smaller lamia were behind them.

If you were watching them head on or slightly to the side, you would only be able to see three people, making it a very nasty ambush technique. Not only do you get the surprise of their rush, but the moment they hit, it would become clear there are five instead of three and throw any hastily made plans into chaos.

"Typical formation, noisy, not taking the environment into account... barely a distraction," said Verz as she crossed her arms. "Is this really the standard of my huntsmen? I think I will need to re-evaluate our trainers."

"Your standards are too high," grumbled Rock, waving his hand, as five earth spears erupted from the ground in front of the approaching group, three in front of the leader and one each for the wing, causing them to slide to a halt.

Kelora laughed at their pale faces, before scanning their surroundings and tilting her head as if something was missing.

"Rest, we move in five," said Velcea to the adepts. She had to act before Verz as she could see they were about to collapse.

The group fell to the floor, releasing their breathing techniques as they gasped for breath and pulled water canteens from their packs. They had been running for three hours straight, trying to catch up to the lead group. It hadn't helped that Verz had purposefully led them through monster dens or left traps.

Alex fell on his back as he turned his head towards Alice. "Why don't you use your lamia form? It should be more suited for this?"

"Short bursts of speed and power. Human legs are better for stamina." replied the gasping Lamia, lifting her mask slightly to whip away the sweat running down her forehead and take a drink.

"Oh well," responded the elf, somewhat disappointed. "No matter, I have all the time in the world to catch a glimpse."

"Not if you keep going on like that," laughed Trent, nudging Alex to look at the glaring bearkin.

"This is ridiculous though." Alex quickly changed the subject. "We are going to be exhausted when we start our trial. The others got a nice, fresh start."

"Oh, was that a complaint?" Verz had appeared behind them, standing in the long shadow of one of the nearby trees, causing the group to jump. "Do you think life is fair? that it will wait for you to be ready before shoving a metal rod into your mouth and bending you over?"

Verz paused for a moment, looking each of them in the eye, "You think this is the worst that I can do? Well, little babies. You. Are. Wrong." Her voice turned musical as her gaze sharpened. "Oh, so~ wrong~."

A chill ran down the adepts spine just as movement caught their attention. The shadows behind their Captain shuddered as if alive.

Moving her arm so fast it left more than one after image, she lazily backhanded the air above the shadow, generating a bone-crunching crack.

Mors' figure flickered into existence, spinning in the air as it crashed and rolled on the ground once again.

"Hopeless.... That was obviously a trap." Verz placed her hands on her hips. "Why would I move to the other side of them and stand in a shadow?"

After hitting the floor more than a dozen times, Mors was able to flip himself onto his feet, sliding to a stop in an almost perfect aggressive stance. He looked like a coiled snake ready to strike. The glowing red of his dragonic eyes could be seen from the slits in his mask, giving him a haunting appearance.

Slowly, he raised a hand up, holding what appeared to be a very fine, silver strand of hair. "Not ever trap is designed to be triggered. Some are just visible deterrents and," he paused, glaring at the wolfkin. "Sometimes the risk is worth the reward."

The cleaning became silent; even the breeze felt like it was holding its breath.

Verz body disappeared, reappearing next to Mors, who was already moving to block but everything happened so fast that even his brain struggled to compute what was going on.

After hauling him to his feet, Verz slapped him on the back, hard enough for the elves, with their incredible hearing to hear the creaking of Mors' bones before laughing and walking back to the group. "Only took you six months... good. Good. Any longer and I would have disowned you."

"You *cough* would have *cough* to own me *cough* first." The congratulatory slap on the back winded Mors, but he still managed, even if it sounded pathetic, to riposte.

"She looks like a cat that caught the canary," laughed Rock. Even though he was in a mood with the Captain for leaving him in the lurch, once again, he couldn't help but smile as he saw her. It had been an age since she appeared this happy however it seemed that not everyone was happy at the sight.

A low hiss to his left drew his attention, and he noticed Velcea was glaring daggers at Mors. Rock couldn't help it. "Jealous that a little demon could do what you couldn't?"

If looks could kill, Rock would have turned to dust at the glare he received. "Shut it."

Verz glanced over her shoulder at Mors, ignoring the stupified gazes of the other adepts,"Oh, and you won't be using your abilities to heal, your body needs the practice. You need to be able to use your traits subconsciously."

"Tsk," Mors hesitated for a moment before giving a shrug and sitting down to create a makeshift splint for his newly broken arm. -"I was sure I managed to hide the damage and distract her so she wouldn't stop me healing it. Who's the real demon here?"

“Captain, you broke his arm in three places!” Kelora laughed, moving next to the sitting demon. "When do I get to see what's under the mask? I want to see what variant he is. "

"When you're six foot under and sprout angel wings," growled Mors.

Verz ignored the two, as they started a series of deep growls and hisses, taunting each other to see if one of them were stupid enough to make the first move.

The adepts who had been purposefully looking anywhere but at Mors gave a slight shiver and offered a silent collective prayer. It seemed like Verz was right, they could be in a worse state.

Verz had never taken a student before, so when she announced it officially, lots of people were envious of Mors thinking he would get special treatment.

Though it had only been a few hours, any feelings of envy were replaced with pity. Not only did Mors not get any special treatment, but every moment was also some sort of training. The entire journey here had been a mixture of mock battles, ambushes and what the others could only see as torture.

Kelora's shoulders slumped. "Who evolves and then doesn't show anyone? Stupid Brat."

Verz glared at the demoness causing Kelora to raise her arms in submission. "I know, new evolution, new disguise. Can't reveal it where wandering eyes might spot him." She then mumbled under her breath. "What a load of bull... you just enjoy tormenting me."

"Let's go." Tired of waiting, Verz moved towards the clearing's edge, the other quickly falling into formation behind her.

Moments later, only Mors was left, slowly walking in the direction the Huntsmen had vanished. "Think I will hang back for a bit."

Taking a deep breath, trying not to think about the punishment he would get for slacking, he launched into the forest leaving the clearing completely desolate.

He soon caught up with the now slowly moving group, at least in comparison to their previous speed, and moved wide to the right-hand side.

His memories from past lives, coupled with the experiences of this one made him extremely uncomfortable around others. He had begged, which was extremely hard for him as he had the sin of Pride, Verz for weeks to let him take the test on his own, but apparently, this was something out of her control as the Federation's Council organises the trial.

After an hour of travelling in silence, Verz occasionally throwing a projectile his way when she thought he wasn't paying attention, the group came across a dirt road and started following it deeper into the forest until they stopped at the edge of a vast clearing, looking at sprawling town made up of wooden buildings in its centre.

The population was only a few hundred people, but due to their unique trade, soul weapons, as well as having high mineral deposits located nearby, the place was import enough for hundreds of soldiers, merchants and researchers to flood the town on a daily basis.

Dark paradise walls encircled the town, glowing in all manners of brightly coloured runes and defensive spells causing the air to almost hum when one approached. It might not be as magnificent as Alzor, but for a town, even with wooden walls, the defences were unparalleled.

From the group's position, they could only hear the bustling sounds of everyday life and see the thin streaks of smoke blemishing the beautiful, clear blue sky.

“Ashsqua, the birthplace of soul weapons and the only official supplier of the Huntsmen,” said Rock as they stepped out of the tree line and onto the road leading to the only visible entrance.

Soul weapons were extremely rare and only forged for the most elite of Federations forces. They were made from a unique metal called Astorneth that’s only known vein, resided deep below Ashsqua's town centre.

The group walked up to the towering gatehouse. Although made of wood it was evident that the enhancements made it stronger than Iron and would cause any wood-bee attacker a headache.

One of the guards separated from his group and stepped towards them. “Name and purpose of visit.”

“Captain Verz of the Pathfinders. Official business of the Federation," responded Verz as she flashed a badge and placed her hand on a stone pedestal next to the guard.

The guard tried to gauge the strength of the smaller members of the group, but due to the heavy cloaks covering them and their masks, he could make out little. After analysing a small stone he pulled from his pocket, seemingly linked to the pedestal as it had the same glow, he held out his hand in an expecting manner. "Thank you, Huntsmen. Please enjoy your stay."

The adepts looked around in awe, this being the first time they had seen one of the most famous towns in the world however Mors was deep in thought. -"I swear I know that guard from somewhere... How can that be possible?"